


The Coffee Part

by queen_of_hells_bells



Series: The Perfect Date [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coffee, Dating, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:17:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_hells_bells/pseuds/queen_of_hells_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel-ish to 'Cas' Perfect Date', though I suppose it could be read as a stand-along. Hypothetically. Wouldn't make as much sense, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coffee Part

Castiel’s coffee was perfect, just the way he liked it: in a small mug, handle facing to the left in case he needed to use his right hand, perched in a matching saucer, the coffee itself regular with half a creamer, filled to just a quarter inch below the rim. As he said, perfect.

It was also cold. It had been cold for the last half hour, and he had yet to notice, because he was busy. Dean was talking, and not only did Castiel feel he _had_ to pay attention, he _wanted_ to.

Because Dean had interesting tings to say; Dean talked about cars and the people at his job, he talked about Vonnegut and Shakespeare without blinking an eye, he talked about music, and, most importantly, he talked about it _to_ Castiel.

Castiel wasn’t used to people talking to him, they usually talked _at_ him, or around him, talking to him without ever actually addressing him. He suspected this was because something about his demeanor made them uncomfortable. Perhaps it was his habit of intense staring, or the way he never seemed to get their jokes, or the fact that he literally _never_ knew what to say to them.

But Dean talked _to_ him, addressing him directly, smiling every time Castiel didn’t get one of his jokes before explaining it to him and telling him ‘I’ll show you later’. Dean talked right through Castiel’s staring, giving back as good as he was getting, and seeming as though he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Cas?” Oh, and that _nickname_. Castiel’d never had a nickname before, and Dean had given him one five minutes after they met. And he kept using it. And Castiel _liked_ it. “Cas, you ok?”

Castiel blinked. “Huh?” Dean chuckled again, shaking his head in a way Castiel was beginning to equate with amusement. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “What?”

“I was just asking what you’re thinking about.”

“Oh. You.” Dean blushed at Castiel’s blunt answer, making Castiel more confused. “I’m sorry, have I made you uncomfortable?”

Castiel made a mental note that Dean’s embarrassed smile was even more adorable than his regular one, and sighed. “No…Cas…it’s just…no one’s ever told me that before…ever.”

“I can’t imagine why. You’re quite pleasant to think about.” Dean blushed again, solidifying Castiel’s theory that he needed to make Dean blush far more often. He liked it. Suddenly it occurred to him that he might have made Dean uncomfortable, and he rushed to rectify his mistake. “I mean, you’re obviously very intelligent, so one could ponder possible discussion topics; you’re incredibly handsome, almost beautiful, which is pleasing though matter for rather obvious reasons; you seem rather mysterious, so it’s nice to sit here and learn more about you; you clearly feel deeply about people, so one could think about what kind of mate you’d make; and though you’ve never mentioned your family, I get the feeling you love them dearest of all. Overall, listening to you is like being delivered pieces of a puzzle that one has to deconstruct and rebuild from smaller puzzles that one has to deconstruct and rebuild from smaller pieces to make it fit back together: quite fascinating.” Castiel finished in a rush, smiling shyly at Dean, fully expecting the blush that crept up the other man’s face, but rather confused by the rest of his response.

Dean nodded slowly, a strange expression on his face as he stood and walked away. His barely minute-long absence gave Castiel more than enough time to freak out about what he’d said: that it had been too creepy, that Dean hadn’t gotten it, that Dean was going to leave him here, that he’d royally fucked this up before it began. But then Dean was back, slapping five dollars onto the table and motioning with his head for Castiel to follow him outside. Once they’d left the diner, Dean leaned up against the Impala, breathing deeply.

The time it took between his inhale and when he began to speak was more than enough time for Castiel to freak out again.

“I came into the shop because I saw you through the window.” _What?_ That was…not supposed to be what Dean was saying. Dean was supposed to be freaked out by him and leaving. “It was December 17th, and I was standing outside the window because me brother’s a giant nerd and probably reads just as much as you.” Castiel remembered December 17th, it was the first time Dean had come into the shop, the time he’d bought the law book. Over a month before he actually started talking to Castiel. “I was on my lunch break, and I’d remembered seeing this little bookshop on my way in and though it would be a good place to try. Anyway, I was looking in the window, trying to decide whether or not to go in, when you came around the corner of one of the shelves. You were probably doing inventory or something, because you had this little notebook, and you were just going along the rows making checkmarks.” Castiel remembered that. He’d only been doing it because Meg was sick. He’d hated it, but now, knowing that it had brought Dean into the store, he liked it a little bit more. “You were wearing black flat-front slacks and a deep blue button down with the sleeves rolled up—really brought out your eyes, you looked hot—and those horrible eighties glasses. I _had_ to go in, just to talk to you.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head into his hands for a moment before lifting it back up and once again staring at Castiel. “But you always hid from me, always doing inventory or something when I came in.” That was true, Castiel _had_ hid himself from Dean, afraid he would embarrass himself. “So I got your name from the other girls, and every day I would stand outside the window until I saw you, or until 12:11, and then once I left, I’d wait around a little longer, just to see you.” Dean sighed again, running a quick hand through his hair. “And then, on February 18th, you were working the counter, and I got to say hi. D’you know that I called you Cas because I panicked and forgot how to pronounce your name? Didn’t want to sound like an idiot. You must have though I was so weird, having a nickname for a guy I’d literally never spoken to.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh, though Castiel still had the feeling he shouldn’t interrupt. “So naturally I practically stalked you for two weeks, and every time you suggested a book for me…well, you just got to be more and more perfect in my mind. Then, finally, just when I’d decided to actually grow a pair and ask you out, you went and ruined the whole thing.”

Castiel wracked his mind, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. He came up with nothing; how could he have ruined it when he hadn’t ever done anything? It didn’t make sense!

“You didn’t actually do anything, don’t worry. It’s just that last night I was at my brother’s house for dinner, and I got bored waiting for food, so I pulled a poetry book off the shelf, flipped through it, and found this really delightful poem about an angel.” Castiel swallowed, having a sudden realization about where this was going. “Gorgeous writing, flawless; I could really see the story the author was painting. It was about this angel who fell from heaven because he fell in love with a human. Absolutely amazing. They lived happily ever after, had kids, it was great. And all I could think was that whoever had written that poem must have been so completely in love, and so… _happy_ , that they could’ve have nothing more than the love of their spouse to have the perfect life. So imagine my surprise when I flipped to the front of that poet’s section and found it was penned by one Castiel Novak.” Dean cocked an inquisitive eye at Castiel. “Anyone you know, Cas?” When Castiel didn’t respond, instead choosing to shrink in on himself in an attempt to hide, Dean pushed on.

“I was totally prepared to never go into the shop again, and to just let you live your happy little life, I mean, I was _completely_ ready to give you up to this mystery woman; but Sammy, he told me I was being an idiot, said I should at least make sure that _you_ wanted me out of your life before giving up.”

“I don’t!” Castiel’s words were rushed and hurried, just in case Dean was still thinking about it.

Dean just looked at him and smiled. “Yeah, I got that when you kissed me, actually. Of course,” He stepped away from the car, hands dropping to hold Castiel’s hips lightly in place as he smirked down at the slightly shorter man. “It also helped that Sammy Googled you. Your page said that you were single. Didn’t say whether you liked men or not, which was a bit disappointing, but I took the chance anyway.”

Castiel bit his lip in an attempt to avert himself from grinning back at Dean, but it was a weak effort. He leaned forward a little bit, giving Dean a slight kiss: barely a brush of lips, but enough to make Dean smile stupidly. “Dean.”

“Yeah?” The words were slightly breathless as they flowed directly from Dean’s mouth to Castiel’s. It was a feeling Castiel reveled in, wanting to feel a million times more before the end.

“If we go to a bookstore with a good poetry section, you can write things in my books.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it?


End file.
